Monday, March 9, 2009

Our mouse troubles are far from over. Therapy may last longer then I'd expected, but then again I'm having issues finding someone willing to take me and the dog at the same time. They all keep hanging up on me!

You see, we caught our nasty rodent invader, and while I was jumping up and down and screaming whilst trying to clean him up I had a twinge of guilt for killing the little critter. Then I remembered the terrors of the night before and my senses came back to me. Not to be outdone by a mouse I set another trap "just in case". I mean, unless there really was an army of mice behind the chair, the trap will be empty in the morning. I mean it WILL be empty, right?

Before retiring for the night I returned to the scene of the crime and noticed a needle in my chair. I picked it up thinking I'd clearly dropped my needle in the terror of the previous night, only to realize I hadn't. That's when it hit me, mice DO run around with sharp pointy needles like Despereaux! I didn't waste a single moment..

I tossed the confused and slightly startled kids in bed, demanded the dog stay with them (my allergies need a break!) and I ran to bed. I heard some giggling coming from their room (we share a wall) and a few thumps. I strongly suspect the dog was reenacting the entire scene of the previous night for them, and getting a great response from the sound of things.

I however took the most sensible approach possible. I jumped into bed, pulled the covers up over my head and pretended that even the boogie man couldn't get me under there. Then I remembered I'd left the light on and there's no way I could sleep with the light on. Never mind any fear I may have over mice, there was no way I was sleeping with the light on. Not to mention the waste of electricity it would have been. After all, I still remember Dad threatening to take away light bulbs for those who never turned off their lights!

If I had a well trained dog I could have had him turn it off for me, but he has no opposable thumbs, which means serious issues with getting doors open. All though I've seen him run face first into them -- on purpose. Attempt to nudge them open with his nose, and even, when he thinks we aren't looking, give a nibble or two. However, I was totally on my own this time!

I climbed out of bed and turned out the light. I climbed back into bed and then I realized I had nothing to fear. Mice might have sharp pointy swords, or it might be my wild imagination at work again. Oh, I know people swear that's a good thing, but I'm telling you it can be a curse too!

How many people do you know who can watch a news report about a possum (I did NOT spell that wrong, I'm referring to the Australian species!) climbing up a toilet pipe and into one's bathroom, and then freak out each time they hear a noise while they are on their potty? Oh yea, I so did! For WEEKS afterwards. I thought, hey if it can happen and it's totally freakish, it's going to happen to me sooner or later. I think I managed to keep the possums out of the toilet by pointing out they can eat all the crab apples they want, I don't know what I'm going to do when the apples are gone..

My fear now subsided over tiny mice armies I relax and even manage to have a great nights sleep. I'm woken at exactly 6:03 am by a child who has had a horrible dream. Only, he refers to them as Daydreams. I decide to skip pointing out that it was night time so it was a night dream, which sounds completely silly which is why we call them bad dreams or night mares. However, it's barely my own wake up time so I instruct the child to climb into bed and be quiet.

I suddenly realize I'm wide awake and that there's a spider on the ceiling. Mice one up spiders, but only when they are small spiders. This, while in some people's books might be small, was nothing short of HUGE in my books. Don't even get me started on a huntsman, they are gobsmackingly gigantic!

I realize that according to house rules my son can't get up until 7. He's not a sound sleeper and if I move he's going to wake up. Which means I'm stuck, right where I am for another 56 minutes and 30 seconds. I figure if I pray hard enough the mosquito netting, which incidentally is wide open, will help break the fall if it drops down. I desided house rules can be broken from time to time and at quarter to seven I jump out of bed grab a bright pink croc and smash the spider.

My son awakes to his mother dancing around the room in bright red penguin covered jammies. He asks what I'm doing. I told him it's known in many places as a victory dance. He asks what I won. I tell him to go back to sleep, and when he wakes up he can inspect the bottom of my shoe. I'm dubbed "gross". Coming from the kid who informed his brother he eats his toe nails, and then had to "prove it!"

By 7:30 the household is up, husband is still vacationing on the mainland, and the dog is.. snoring. Which means there's only one person left to check the mouse trap. That's me. I figure "no biggie" it'll be empty. SUCKER!! It wasn't empty. For the record this mouse wasn't the size of a kiwi, he was much bigger. He was much creepier. He did not have a pointy needle for a sword. He required that I spend at least 2.5 hours psyching myself up to dispose of him.

When I informed my children their mother was wimpy when it came to cleaning up mice my five year old offered to do the job for me while laughing outright. I was horrified at the thought and instructed him to never ever touch dead mice. E.V.E.R. He laughed. "I'm not afraid of them or anything like you are!" The nerve of some children! Especially one who's afraid to eat any food that's hot.

It took me 5 minutes to get the dreadful rodent in my bag. It took me another five minutes to remember the trash can was still at the base of our very steep driveway. I contemplate taking the mouse with me, because I figure the dog will finally decide to deal with the "morsel". I instruct the 8 year old NOT to look in the bag.

He's deathly afraid of dead animals, but he doesn't think twice of picking up their bones and attempting to put them back together. Humpty Dumpty sure could have used our Morgan! Nor does he think twice of instructing me to pull the car over and check ever blasted wallaby we see for a pouch. Only girl wallabies have pouches, and girl wallabies can have countless stages of babies going on at one time. He's desperate for me to bring home a baby wallaby.

Hey, if I can train the wallaby to deal with the mice.. Nope, scratch that, wallabies are too jumpity. Now, a roo on the other hand.. I'd be able to convince him to do anything for a handful of food.. Wait, the mouse..

Yes, so the mouse is on the side deck and I'm retrieving the trash can in my workout clothes with the worlds worst case of bed hair ever when the recycling truck comes up. It's one of the only trucks that still runs on true man power. I'm talking at least three, usually four, guys on this truck.

I swear, I did NOT have the mouse with me, and yet you would have thought I was the mouse with the looks we got! Then again it might have been the kids running up behind me screaming things like, "Did you catch the mouse? Is he in there? Can I see him?" Or the other one screaming, "You're so gross, we don't want to see it. That can stinks, have you washed it lately?" Or maybe it was the threat of leaving one lone milk jug behind again. I mean what's the deal with that?

Why go to the trouble of taking ALL my recycling and leaving me ONE milk jug? Is it a sign? Are they agreeing with me, I should go across the street and milk the neighbor's cow? Cause if it is, don't you think leaving me the cow would be a way better sign?

I put the trash can away, without washing it out, and drop the mouse inside. The dog had the nerve to sit next to the can. Hank The Cowdog he is not! When I ran out for more mouse traps, he was sitting in the same spot, most likely in an attempt to throw me off course as to where he hid all 14 rawhide bone he stole. The glutton!

I'm telling you, I may need to double up on therapy if I catch another mouse tonight. In fact, I don't even know if I'll CHECK the trap. After all, the thought of all the peanut butter going to gross little rodents.. Not to mention there's a certain husband who gets in tomorrow evening who won't mind checking the trap, everyone deserves a surprise now and again, right?

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comments:

ROFL!! What an adventure! It reminds me of the time Roo spotted a snake (yes a snake! just a little garden variety- but still...) going down our basement steps. He screamed- I screamed- and called for Bug to come take care of it. He of course was even more freaked out than me, and scared it down the stairs the rest of the way. Where it has never been found....glad I don't have to sleep down there. rofl

Oh, thank heavens we found no snakes!! All though at least I could have called someone to come get it since nearly all the snakes here are poisonous! I probably would have taken the next plane out to the mainland too!